


Angels and Pencil Sketches

by animeangelriku



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeangelriku/pseuds/animeangelriku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine take a trip to Mexico City, Mexico, and they decide to stop by some of the most common tourist spots in the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels and Pencil Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> I... was supposed to put this up last year, but I completely forgot about it and I just remembered that I hadn't done it yet. So, uh, here you go!
> 
> You can also read it on the link below, so that you can see the links to the mentioned places! (I have no idea of how to add hyperlinks here, sorry!)
> 
> http://klaineroadtrip2015.tumblr.com/post/127552092853/klaine-road-trip-2015-mexico-city-distrito

Their driver, who had picked them up at the entrance of the Mexico City International Airport, hadn’t paid them much attention so far, except for helping them load their bags inside the trunk of the cab and gently asking them where they were heading. Blaine had shyly muttered, in the best Spanish pronunciation he could, “ _Hotel Royal, Zona Rosa, por favor?_ ” and he had sounded so cute that Kurt was barely able to contain himself from kissing his husband.

On the way to their hotel, Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine, entwining their fingers together. When Blaine looked back at him, Kurt couldn’t help the excited laugh that bubbled out of him. They were in Mexico, in the capital of the state, of the _country_ , and even though he was a little scared about their whole ordeal, he was also incredibly ecstatic, already wanting to get to their hotel so that they could leave their bags and then go touring around.

Soon enough, the taxi turned in the corner of the street and stopped after a few seconds, right in front of the Best Western hotel in which Kurt and Blaine would be staying as long as they were in Mexico City. Blaine was the first one to get out, and he held out his hand for Kurt to take it.

“Why, thank you, sir,” Kurt said, and Blaine winked at him as he helped him climb out of the car. Even after so many years together, even after getting married, Blaine still found ways to surprise Kurt and turn him into the young boy head over heels in love with his boyfriend he’d been back in Dalton, when they had first started going out together; the boy whose cheeks turned pink when Blaine kissed him or even when their hands brushed each other’s.

As soon as their bags were out of the trunk, a bellboy from the hotel rushed out to help them carry the suitcases inside, and Kurt heard as Blaine talked to their driver and paid him in the pesos they’d changed their currency to at the airport.

“I’ll go get us checked-in,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt’s cheek and letting his fingers linger on Kurt’s arm before he walked away, and Kurt wanted to go with him as long as they could remain together. God, he was so happy that they were here, in one of the most recent countries to legalize same-sex marriage and adoption by same-sex couples, that he could barely stand to be separated from his husband now.

Kurt stood on the entrance of their hotel, glancing around the places that immediately surrounded them. There was a small local with a sign above it that read _Money Exchange_ , and next to it was a hair salon and what looked like a restaurant called _La Catrina_ , and the sign had a skeleton dressed with a big purple hat and a purple dress.

“All right!” Blaine walked out of the hotel with a key card in his hand. “They said they’d leave our bags in our room, and we’d find them there when we came back.”

“Where are we going?” Kurt asked him, knowing from the smile in his husband’s lips that he had a plan already in mind.

“We’re going,” Blaine said, taking hold of Kurt’s hand so that he could entwine their fingers together, “to _Zona Rosa_.”

-

They didn’t actually head towards _Zona Rosa_ , Spanish for _Pink Zone_ , because, as the girl that Blaine had talked to at the hotel had mentioned, they were already _in it_. She did mention that they could visit one of the main streets of _Zona Rosa, Calle Génova_ , which was only a block away from their hotel. It was a pedestrian street, and as soon as Kurt and Blaine turned the corner from the street of Liverpool to the street of Génova, Kurt truly felt like he was in another whole different country.

There were trees and bushes in the edges of the street, dividing it into three different routes so that the stores and the statues could be appreciated from different perspectives. The first statue they encountered—which also served as a fountain—was one of a naked woman with two dolphins at her sides, and Kurt couldn’t help scoffing at it.

“Why would someone think it was a good idea to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said with a shrug, their hands still entwined together. “I think it’s artistic.”

They walked past a Carl’s Jr., a music store called Mixup, a lot of magazine stands, some more grocery stores, a Starbucks (Kurt wanted to try this Mexican Starbucks coffee, but Blaine insisted they could do that on their way back to the hotel, so Kurt relented), and then they had to wait to cross the street, since they had a red light. Kurt noticed that a lot of pedestrians didn’t wait for the light to change before they dashed across the street.

“I take it this is a normal thing?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“I guess,” Blaine added, although he was also staring wide-eyed at the people hurrying off before a car drove right past them.

Oh, well. A different country, a different culture.

As soon as the light changed and they crossed the street as they should, Kurt and Blaine both noticed that there were canvases of all sizes, painted with all kinds of techniques, leaning against the bushes, as if they were on display. Next to every couple of canvases was a man or a woman sitting down on a chair, working on another canvas. They were all artists, displaying their works of art for people to admire and even to _buy_ , according to some signs Kurt saw beside the paintings. 

“Oh, my god…” Blaine pulled on their interlaced fingers to drag Kurt close to the display of pencil-drawn portraits, ranging from a girl laying sideways and looking at a camera in front of her to a man holding a little boy on his lap while the boy laughed.

“ _Lo que le agrade, amigo_ ,” said the woman sitting next to the portraits. She was bent over a canvas as she drew another portrait, using a photograph as her reference.

“What did she say?” Kurt asked, leaning in to whisper the question in Blaine’s ear.

“Something like, _whatever you like_ ,” Blaine answered, also in a whisper. The woman looked up at them.

“You speak English?” she asked them, and Kurt nodded before Blaine could. She smiled kindly at them and immediately began to speak with a slightly broken English, but at least now Kurt didn’t feel like he was a total foreigner. “You can ask for prices, no commitments.”

“Kurt, we should get a portrait of us!” Blaine said excitedly, almost bouncing on his feet. “What do you think?” Kurt smiled at how much of a puppy Blaine seemed to be, and he almost said yes instantly, but if they did, they’d have to carry it with them and maybe it was better for them if both of their hands were free during the day. Well, technically just one of them, since they intended to hold hands until they went back to the hotel.

“On the way back,” Kurt said. “And then we get our coffee.”

After crossing two more streets and a statue of Diana the Huntress, Blaine pulled Kurt to the left. “There’s this monument I really wanna see,” he said at Kurt’s raised eyebrow. Cars drove past them, one lane at each of their sides, both lanes intersecting at a roundabout with a huge column in the middle. It was only until they walked closer to the column that Kurt realized what monument Blaine had meant.

The column seemed to have two bases, like the layers of a cake: the bottom one had a statue of a woman on each of its four corners, with the statue of a lion being led by a child at the front. The top base had many other statues, though those were of both men and women. Then the column seemed to rise above them, and on the very top, there was a bronze angel holding a laurel wreath into the sky. A circular set of fourteen steps surrounded the monument.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Blaine said with an almost knowing smirk, dragging Kurt across the street as soon as the light of the roundabout was green for them. They weren’t the only ones at the monument, but Kurt didn’t really care; he and Blaine could still climb the steps to take a closer look.

“What’s it called?” Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine’s fingers, feeling like the breath left him as he stood underneath the gaze of the bronze, winged woman.

“Everyone knows it as _El ángel_ ,” Blaine answered. “But I think its ‘real’ name is _Monument to the Independence_.”

“Do you know who the statues are?” His husband softly shook his head.

“No, but we can Google it later.”

Kurt laughed out loud, earning himself from gazes from strangers, but he didn’t mind the looks. In fact, he even cupped Blaine’s cheek with his free hand and kissed Blaine right on the mouth. He was in a gorgeous city with his gorgeous husband, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. Besides, there was an angelical woman holding a laurel wreath above their heads—honestly, was there a better sign than that to absolutely be themselves?

-

“Don’t think that this means I don’t want my Mexican Starbucks coffee anymore,” Kurt said as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. Blaine laughed and hid his smile by taking a bite of his croissant. They’d decided to stop by a small combination of a bookstore with a coffee shop, which was nothing Kurt hadn’t heard of before but which was still nice and comfy. Separating them from the books was a long display of vinyl records, most of them soundtracks for a series or movies, with a few DVDs, Blu-Rays, and CDs. There was nice jazz music playing over the entire place, and Kurt felt like he could almost fall asleep here.

“Don’t drop on me now, Kurt,” Blaine said. “We’ve still got one place I’d like for us to visit today.”

“Am I getting any clues as to where we’re going?” Kurt asked, leaning his face on his hand. He saw that Blaine’s mouth started moving, either giving him a clue as to where they were heading towards, or telling him he had to wait until they were there, but he wasn’t exactly listening. If they had still been teenagers, Kurt would’ve been embarrassed to be caught staring at his boyfriend, but now they were married, and Kurt could unabashedly stare at his husband all he wanted.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Honestly?”

Blaine laughed out loud, and a blush colored his cheeks. “Anyway,” he said, “we should get going if we want to get to Starbucks before going back to the hotel.”

-

The subway was… different than what Kurt had imagined. For one, there were way too many people, crowding him and Blaine together in the middle of the train. Not that Kurt was complaining about being forced to stay as close to his husband as humanly possible, but the lack of personal space was starting to bother him a little. Luckily, it was only three more stations until they could get down the train, walking out hand in hand while people rushed past them.

They came out onto a small market with food stands, stands advertising henna tattoos, candy, clothes, and even a comic book stand that Kurt dragged Blaine away from.

“Wait, I just wanna see—”

“When we go back to the hotel,” Kurt said, “so that we don’t go carrying everything around.”

“But I’m not even gonna buy anything!” Blaine jutted out his bottom lip in a pout, and Kurt just had to lean in and give him a kiss.

“I know you,” Kurt said when he pulled away. “And yes, you’re gonna buy something. So we’ll do it on our way back.”

“Okay, so far, we need to buy your Mexican Starbucks,” Blaine said, lifting a finger from his hand for each thing he listed, “our pencil-drawn portrait, and my comic book.”

They stopped at a hot dog stand to get something to eat, and then Kurt allowed his husband to lead the way through what looked like a park resembling Central Park: a park that seemed like a forest, with lampposts and fountains and benches and trees of all kinds surrounding them, with roads intersecting together in a fountain every few steps. Blaine said it was called _La Alameda._

“So,” Kurt risked asking, “where are we going now?”

“There,” Blaine said, pointing to their left. “The Palace of Fine Arts.”

A few feet away from them stood a building that, indeed, looked like a palace, with columns and arcs holding it up as if it had been built a few hundred years ago. The entranced seemed to be gated by eight marble pillars that held up a balcony with three ceiling-to-floor window panes. In front of the palace, there were four “gardens”, or at least Kurt thought of them like that: patches of green grass and even more bushes, each of those patches surrounded by a white barrier, where people sat and talked to each other, probably catching their breath. Spread across the plaza front of the palace were four statues of Pegasus standing on their hind legs, like they were protecting the place from intruders.

On the very top of the palace was another angel, like the Angel of Independence, standing tall over the dome.

God, the entire picture made Kurt feel like he was inside an old textbook, as part of a photograph. It took his breath away, just like _El ángel_ had.

“Did you know,” Blaine said as he and Kurt took a seat around one of the four small gardens, “that the building sunk about thirteen feet while it was being built?”

“ _Thirteen_ feet?” Kurt stared awestruck at the palace. “How come?”

“Well, apparently the soil was kind of soggy and the building weighs more than twenty tons,” Blaine answered as Kurt leaned his head on his shoulder. “And I read somewhere that it’s actually sinking as we speak.”

“That’s incredible,” Kurt said, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s shoulder. He felt like he could stay here forever, even as the sun set down around them. “Do you think that if we stay here long enough, we might see it sinking?”

“I don’t think so,” Blaine said, and he reached out to hold one of Kurt’s hands between both of his. “At least, I’m not worried about it sinking. I’m more worried about just, you know, enjoying the moment.”

Then he started playing with Kurt’s fingers, and Kurt smiled down at their hands when he caught sight of their wedding rings, glistening as they caught the light of the setting sun. He looked up at Blaine and kissed him. When they pulled away, his husband leaned their foreheads together, chuckling, his eyes getting all scrunched up at the corners, and Kurt kind of wanted to kiss his entire face.

“I love you,” Blaine said, and Kurt was brought back to an afternoon at the Lima Bean a few years ago, having just returned from his first trip to New York, and listening to his boyfriend say the exact same words for the first time.

“I love you too,” Kurt said, the same way he had done it back at the Lima Bean that day.

-

On their way back to the hotel, Blaine bought his comic book from the stand outside of the subway station. When they got back to Génova, Kurt nearly ran to Starbucks as Blaine tried to keep up behind him, their hands still interlaced together. Finally, they stopped by the display of the pencil portraits, where the woman had finished the one she’d been working on when they’d seen her earlier in the day: a little girl and a boy smiling at the camera, their arms on each other’s shoulders.

“ _Lo que le agrade, amigo_ ,” said the woman, looking up at them. Then she seemed to recognize them, and she started talking in English. “Ah, the tourists!” she said. “You can ask for any price, no compromises.”

“Can you do a portrait of us?” Blaine asked, and Kurt sipped from his coffee to hide his grin.

“Of course,” she said. “But I’ll have it tomorrow, is that okay?”

“Well, we’re leaving in two days,” Kurt said. “I don’t see any problem in picking it up tomorrow. Are you always here?”

“On the weekends, yes.”

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” said Blaine, earning a smile from the woman.

“All right. I just need to take a picture of you.” She pointed to the sign next to her display, which read, _Retratos desde 50 pesos_. “What size do you want it in?”

“I don’t know about you,” Blaine said, turning to Kurt, “but I want a big one. Like, I want to hang it on our living room when we come back.”

“You heard him,” Kurt told the woman, who smiled gently and leaned down to grab her camera from the ground. “What my husband wants, my husband gets.”

Now it was Blaine the one who craned his neck up to kiss Kurt, and Kurt could feel both of them smiling into the kiss.

“All right,” the woman said as she held up the camera. “On three. One, two…”

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt did the same thing. They leaned their heads together and smiled at the camera.


End file.
